Perhaps We're Insane
by SHRevolutionary
Summary: Holmes and Watson are reincarnated as female high schoolers in 2011, but get transported back to the time of the real Holmes and Watson. How will this work out? 1890!Holmes/1890!Watson; slight 2011!Watson/1890!Watson; slight 1890!Holmes/2011!Holmes
1. Chapter 1

August 26, 2011 started the same way every day did. I walked to my friend's house, as I did every day, and she was sitting at her desk and staring out the window, as per usual. I opened her door and turned her light on. Her room was cluttered with everything and anything in, as she called it, "an organized mess." She spun her chair around and I saw that she had her clarinet in her hands, mouthpiece between her lips and music thrown over the desk. She brought the black instrument out of her mouth and set it on a dresser, smirking lightly. Her hair was a mess, her glasses askew, and her clothing wrinkled and informal.

"Sarah Horvath, we have rehearsal today. Put your clarinet away and grab your music." I rolled my eyes and smiled at her. Were all geniuses this scatter-brained? She could deduce anything, but couldn't remember when marching band started. She jumped up, running a hand through her brown hair.

"Perhaps I should get dressed."

"Yes, that would be good." She quickly brushed her hair, threw some eyeliner and mascara on her gray eyes, and changed into shorts and a Marching Knights t-shirt. I looked at her desk and was intrigued by a contraption on her desk that looked suspiciously like it was made of the wood from her reeds and tape, not to mention a lot of stuff I couldn't recognize. I laughed quietly when I saw scraps of her dress from formal last year. That dance was a disaster and the night I realized why my friend was often rejected from society and terribly anti-social. Her date had left the dance alone and regretting asking her. I turned to ask her what this thing was when she nearly bounced over to the desk.

"That, dear Jess Wilson, is a new invention of mine."

"I see that, Sarah. What does it do?"

"See, my theory is that when I play a D, F#, C, then A, it will take us back in time."

"Sarah, that's impossible."

"Is it?" She smirked, gray eyes glowing, and grabbed her clarinet.

"No."

"Would you rather use your flute?"

"Don't do it. It won't work."

"Then why are you so scared?" She smirked even more and put the end of the instrument in her mouth. She put the bell near the end of the contraption and played the four notes in the order she stated, her eyes growing wider and more excited after each. When she had finished, she pulled it out of her mouth and grinned eagerly at the thing.

"So, what now?" I asked, skeptical.

"I dunno. Let's watch." I sighed.

"Sarah, nothing's going to happen." I doubt she heard my last comment, as she was focused on the thing on her desk, as it was starting to glow and lift off her desk a bit. My eyes widened as it floated toward us in the most eerie way imaginable. I grabbed the nearest thing to me, her Sherlock Holmes book, and threw it at the thing as hard as I could. It stopped for a second when the book came in contact with it, then flashed green and exploded. The last thing I saw was Sarah's grin and the room spinning before I slammed my eyes shut and grabbed her wrist.


	2. Chapter 2

When I snapped my eyes open, I was still squeezing Sarah's wrist. But, unlike when I shut my eyes, she looked confused. I let go of her and looked around. The room was still a mess, but there was no clarinet music all over the place. There were no bunk beds, no carpet, no Marching Knights poster. And there was no desk with an odd reed, tape, and dress material contraption on it. She stood up and held out a hand to assist me, but I jumped up without her help.

"Sarah, where are we?"

"It seems that my contraption worked."

"Well, where are we?"

"Well, judging by the contents of the room, the dog in the corner, the newspapers on the desk, and the view of London through that window, I'd assume that this is the residence of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson in London in 1890."

"Why would we end up here?"

"What did you throw at the machine?"

"Your copy of Sherlock Holmes."

"I see. That would be it. See, you threw the book at the machine, and it transported us here because it read it and thought that's where I wanted to go." She looked around and poked at the desk.

"We should leave before-" I was cut off by two men walking in through the door. The one with blonde hair, quite like mine, gaped at us while his gray-eyed companion hung his coat and hat on the rack next to the door. He turned around and looked at us, seemingly indifferent. Sarah smiled and walked over to them.

"Miss Sarah Horvath." She shook hands with the blonde man. "You must be John Watson. And you must be Sherlock Holmes." She said, turning to the other man, who scrutinized her. "This is Miss Jessica Wilson." She gestured to me and I waved hesitantly. What was she getting herself into? We could get arrested! We just randomly appeared in these men's house in clothing that certainly wasn't legal. And we were skipping band practice.

"Miss Horvath, why are you in my house? And why are you dressed worse than a prostitute?" The brown haired man, who Sarah called Sherlock, asked her.

"Holmes, now is not the time to be rude." His companion said quietly to him, glaring slightly.

"You're not able to deduce it?" Sarah smirked at Sherlock. "Not as great as they say, huh?" I walked over to her quickly.

"Sarah, you can't talk like this. You're in their house." She shrugged.

"We're from 2011. Like, in the future." She said to the men, who were still looking at us oddly.

"I see. That's quite interesting." John replied.

"Don't ask how, though. It's a long story. My friend," I glared at Sarah, "has a tendency to build things and get us into trouble." John laughed.

"I know what you mean. We just came back from one of_ dear_ Holmes' escapades." He shot the other man a glare and chuckled. I looked at Sarah and rolled my eyes. She and Holmes were staring out the window at London. "He does that when he's thinking." I paused.

"So does she." We exchanged a look and then stared at our friends, who exchanged a glance of their own. Then, it hit me. But hadn't Sarah deduced it by now? She was usually the first to figure things like this out. But, perhaps this idea seemed too far-fetched. Was it?

"Dear Mary will be angry that I missed yet another dinner."

"Miss Morstan can wait." Holmes snapped back at him, still staring out the window. That registered for a minute. Sarah always hated my boyfriend, Matt Molloy. I blinked a few times as my theory was proven.

"So, I have a theory."

"Do you have any facts?" Sarah replied, gaze still through the window.

"Of course."

"Good. And they are unbiased facts? Not twisted to go with your theories?" I rolled my eyes and John's widened and Holmes's snapped to look at Sarah.

"What did you say?" He asked, stepping closer to her.

"Holmes says that all the time." John mumbled to me. My theory was correct, I was sure of it.

"We're you! From the future!" I blurted out. The three looked at me, surprised. "See, Sarah, you and Mr. Holmes are congruent and Mr. Watson and I are exactly alike!" The two geniuses looked at each other and scrutinized the other while John looked at me and nodded.

"But you're female." Holmes looked at Sarah, who nodded sarcastically.

"Way to figure that one out, genius." She smirked, then looked down at herself. "Speaking of which, could we get some clothing that is more appropriate? We can't go out like this." Holmes nodded and scribbled out a note and handed it to John.

"Here's where Irene is staying."

"I'll get Mary."

"I don't like her."

"I know."

"But she's abhorrent."

"But you have to get over it, Holmes." John pressed the note back into Sherlock's hand and left, grabbing his coat and hat on the way. The brown-haired man stared at the door and frowned and Sarah walked over, curious.

"What's your issue with Mary?"

"It's not your business."

"I see."


End file.
